


V is for...

by QueSeraAwesome



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, Heteronormativity, Humor, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Lesbian Character of Color, Nicknames, from Palomo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't even play volleyball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V is for...

“Hey, Andersmith, was dating easier or harder after the war started?” Palomo asks.

Andersmith waits for the chorus of dramatic groaning to subside before trying to answer.

“I don’t remember,” he deadpans. “I was just a kid. I wasn’t really interested in dating.”

“Palomo, it’s going to be hard for you to get a date whether there’s a war on or not,” Anjali teases. “And it’s not that hard to find a little romance at the end of the world.”

She chips more dirt off the bubble-gum pink of her shoulder pauldrons. Got to look good, for these kind of things. She’s not standing in front of the new general (another new general already) looking like she crawled out of the mud.

“Yeah?” Palomo challenges, dogging her heels as they all make their way to the field the ceremony is taking place. “If it’s so easy, why don’t _you_ get a date?”

“‘Oh, please,” Volleyball retorts. “I could get a date walking into the mess if I wanted to.”

“She’s got a point,” Andersmith chips in. “I’ve seen it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, looking like that,” Palomo huffs. “You could have any guy you wanted.”

“Not interested,” Anjali replies, sharing an eye roll with Bitters. Palomo is so painfully heterosexual sometimes.

“We’re going to be late,” Andersmith interrupts. “Can we talk about who is and isn’t getting laid later?”

“Nobody’s getting laid, weren’t you listening?” Palomo says, throwing up his hands. “Not even her, who could get laid!”

“Whoah, _whoah_ , who said I wasn’t getting laid?”

“You said–”

“No, I said I’m not interested in any of those _guys_ ,” she says. She spreads her index and middle finger in front of her mouth in a vee. She’d stick her tongue out too but, yeah. Helmets. “If you know what I mean?”

Andersmith and Bitters snort. Palomo noticably doesn’t.

“What’s the V stand for?” Palomo asks, confused. He holds up two fingers, peace sign style. “Victory? Vegetables? Volleyball?”

Bitters starts howling in laughter. Andersmith just covers his face with one giant hand, mostly failing to stifle his own.

She stares down at him with something like growing horror, but he just keeps looking up at her, confused frown and all. Likes some sort of pathetic puppy, waiting for her answer. She sighs.

“Yeah, Palomo,” she says. “It stands for Volleyball.”

And that would have been it, except Palomo keeps calling her Volleyball now, and Bitters does too because he thinks it’s hilarious and also because he’s a jackass. And then Jensen joins in, eyes twinkling (yes, even from behind her visor) because she knows she won’t get decked for it. And then Andersmith is calling her from across the garage, “HEY, VOLLEYBALL,” and then her CO’s calling her it and there you go. Soon the whole camp’s doing it. By now she’s pretty sure most of the New Republic doesn’t actually know her first name.

She doesn’t even play volleyball.

“And that’s the story of how cunnilingus got me my nickname,” Volleyball finishes.

Tucker and Carolina stare. Volleyball sips her iced tea, the din of the cafeteria ebbing and flowing around them. Pink, aqua and aqua, their table looks like a fucking Easter egg. They’re still staring.

“I think you’re my new hero,” Tucker says. A slice of half-eaten pie sits in front of him, untouched since the beginning of the story.

“You…”Carolina starts and stops. She looks down at the melting ice cream bar dripping down her hand like it has answers. Apparently it does. “I like you,” she finishes.

Volleyball waggles her eyebrows at her over her tea and says, “Yeah. A lot of ladies like me.” Tucker bow chicka wow wows. They ignore him.

“I’ll bet they do,” Carolina says, her eyes grinning at her as she licks a line of melting ice cream off her wrist. Volleyball watches Carolina's pink tongue run along the line of her wrist and sighs to herself..

“Okay, my turn,” Tucker says. “I got a story about this girl who used to be in my squad you won’t believe.”

“We’re only sharing _true_ stories, Cap,” Volleyball teases, leaning back and crossing her arms behind her head.

“Hey, fuck you, Kai was—“

“Isn’t it nearly twelve?” Carolina asks. “Wasn’t Dr. Grey releasing Wash from the infirmary at—“

“Oh shit, gotta go!” Tucker interrupts, swinging his legs over the bench and making a beeline out of the mess. Volleyball and Carolina laugh and watch him go. Volleyball steals his pie.

“So,” she says, turning back to Carolina. “Your turn. The ‘Flying V’ story?”

“Right. So, she was a pilot,” Carolina eyes go fond with memory. “We used to call her Niner and…”

**Author's Note:**

> someone had to.


End file.
